When The Doors Of Perception Are Cleansed,

There Is No Mistake So Great As The Mistake Of Not Going On.

O Thou With Dewy Locks, Who Lookest Down Thro' The Clear Windows Of The Morning, Turn Thine Angel Eyes Upon Our Western Isle, Which In Full Choir Hails Thy Approach, O Spring! The Hills Tell Each Other, And The Listening Valleys Hear; All Our Longing Eyes Are Turned Up To Thy Bright Pavilions: Issue Forth, And Let Thy Holy Feet Visit Our Clime. Come O'er The Eastern Hills, And Let Our Winds Kiss Thy Perfumed Garments; Let Us Taste Thy Morn And Evening Breath; Scatter Thy Pearls Upon Our Love-sick Land That Mourns For Thee.

I Care Not Whether A Man Is Good Or Evil; All That I Care / Is Whether He Is A Wise Man Or A Fool. Go! Put Off Holiness, / And Put On Intellect.

Nothing Is Real Beyond Imaginative Patterns Men Make Of Reality.

Mutual Forgiveness Of Each Vice. Such Are The Gates Of Paradise.